Part 45 (1/2)

Here Mr. Twist raised his voice and shouted. ”Mrs. Bilton,” he shouted, so loud that she couldn't but stop, ”if you'll guarantee to keep quiet for just five minutes--sit down right here at this table and not say one single thing, not one single thing for just five minutes,” he said, banging the table, ”I'll tell you all about it. Oh yes, I'll accept your resignation at the end of that time if you're still set on leaving, but just for this once it's me that's going to do the talking.”

And this must be imagined as said so loud that only capital letters would properly represent the noise Mr. Twist made.

Mrs. Bilton did sit down, her face flushed by the knowledge of how good her intentions had been when she took the post, and how deceitful--she was forced to think it--Mr. Twist's were when he offered it. She was prepared, however, to give him a hearing. It was only fair. But Mr.

Twist had to burst into capitals several times before he had done, so difficult was it for Mrs. Bilton, even when she had agreed, even when she herself wished, not to say anything.

It wasn't five minutes but twenty before Mrs. Bilton came out of the office again. She went straight into the garden, where the Annas, aware of the interview going on with Mr. Twist, had been lingering anxiously, unable at so crucial a moment to settle to anything, and with solemnity kissed them. Her eyes were very bright. Her face, ordinarily colourless as parchment, was red. Positively she kissed them without saying a single word; and they kissed her back with such enthusiasm, with a relief that made them hug her so tight and cling to her so close, that the brightness in her eyes brimmed over and she had to get out her handkerchief and wipe it away.

”Gurls,” said Mrs. Bilton, ”I had a shock yesterday, but I'm through with it. You're motherless. I'm daughterless. We'll weld.”

And with this unusual brevity did Mrs. Bilton sum up the situation.

She was much moved. Her heart was touched; and once that happened nothing could exceed her capacity for sticking through what she called thick and thin to her guns. For years Mr. Bilton had occupied the position of the guns; now it would be these poor orphans. No Germans could frighten her away, once she knew their story; no harsh judgments and misconceptions of her patriotic friends. Mr. Twist had told her everything, from the beginning on the _St. Luke_, harking back to Uncle Arthur and the att.i.tude of England, describing what he knew of their mother and her death, not even concealing the part his own mother had played or that he wasn't their guardian at all. He made the most of Mrs.

Bilton's silence; and as she listened her heart melted within her, and the immense store of grit which was her peculiar pride came to the top and once and for all overwhelmed her prejudices. But she couldn't think, and at last she burst out and told Mr. Twist she couldn't think, why he hadn't imparted all this to her long ago.

”Ah,” murmured Mr. Twist, bowing his head as a reed in the wind before the outburst of her released volubility.

Hope once more filled The Open Arms, and the Twist party looked forward to the afternoon with renewed cheerfulness. It had just happened so the first day, that only Germans came. It was just accident. Mr. Twist, with the very large part of him that wasn't his head, found himself feeling like this too and declining to take any notice of his intelligence, which continued to try to worry him.

Yet the hope they all felt was not realized, and the second afternoon was almost exactly like the first. Germans came and cl.u.s.tered round the Annas, and made friendly though cautious advances to Mr. Twist. The ones who had been there the first day came again and brought others with them worse than themselves, and they seemed more at home than ever, and the air was full of rolling r's--among them, Mr. Twist was unable to deny, being the r's of his blessed Annas. But theirs were such little r's, he told himself. They rolled, it is true, but with how sweet a rolling.

While as for these other people--confound it all, the place might really have been, from the sounds that were filling it, a _Conditorei_ Unter den Linden.

All his doubts and anxieties flocked back on him as time pa.s.sed and no Americans appeared. Americans. How precious. How clean, and straight, and admirable. Actually he had sometimes, he remembered, thought they weren't. What an aberration. Actually he had been, he remembered, impatient with them when first he came back from France. What folly.

Americans. The very word was refres.h.i.+ng, was like clear water on a thirsty day. One American, even one, coming in that afternoon would have seemed to Mr. Twist a G.o.dsend, a purifier, an emollient--like some blessed unction dropped from above.

But none appeared; not even Mr. Ridding.

At six o'clock it was quite dark, and obviously too late to go on hoping. The days in California end abruptly. The sun goes down, and close on its heels comes night. In the tea-room the charmingly shaded lights had been turned on some time, and Mr. Twist, watching from the partly open door of his office, waited impatiently for the guests to begin to thin out. But they didn't. They took no notice of the signals of lateness, the lights turned on, the stars outside growing bright in the surrounding blackness.

Mr. Twist watched angrily. He had been driven into his office by the disconcerting and incomprehensible overtures of Mr. w.a.n.gelbecker, and had sat there watching in growing exasperation ever since. When six struck and n.o.body showed the least sign of going away he could bear it no longer, and touched the little m.u.f.fled electric bell that connected him to Mrs. Bilton in what Anna-Felicitas called a mystical union--Anna II. was really excessively tactless; she had said this to Mrs. Bilton in his presence, and then enlarged on unions, mystical and otherwise, with an embarra.s.sing abundance of imagery--by buzzing gently against her knee from the leg of the desk.

She laid down her pen, as though she had just finished adding up a column, and went to him.

”Now don't talk,” said Mr. Twist, putting up an irritable hand directly she came in.

Mrs. Bilton looked at him in much surprise. ”Talk, Mr. Twist?” she repeated. ”Why now, as though--”

”Don't _talk_ I say, Mrs. Bilton, but listen. Listen now. I can't stand seeing those children in there. It sheer makes my gorge rise. I want you to fetch them in here--now don't talk--you and me'll do the confounded waiting--no, no, don't talk--they're to stay quiet in here till the last of those Germans have gone. Just go and fetch them, please Mrs. Bilton.

No, no, we'll talk afterwards. I'll stay here till they come.” And he urged her out into the tea-room again.

The guests had finished their tea long ago, but still sat on, for they were very comfortable. Obviously they were thoroughly enjoying themselves, and all were growing, as time pa.s.sed, more manifestly at home. They were now having a kind of supper of ices and fruit-salads.

Five dollars, thought the sensible Germans, was after all a great deal to pay for afternoon tea, however good the cause might be and however important one's own ulterior motives; and since one had in any case to pay, one should eat what one could. So they kept the Annas very busy.

There seemed to be no end, thought the Annas as they ran hither and thither, to what a German will hold.

Mrs. Bilton waylaid the heated and harried Anna-Rose as she was carrying a tray of ices to a party she felt she had been carrying ices to innumerable times already. The little curls beneath her cap clung damply to her forehead. Her face was flushed and distressed. What with having to carry so many trays, and remember so many orders, and try at the same time to escape from the orderers and their questions and admiration, she was in a condition not very far from tears.